FedVision
by Oparu
Summary: Beverly and Kathryn host a Federation Song Contest party, with parts of the Enterprise, Titan and Voyager crews in attendance. Silly hats, some tipsiness, fairly fluffy.   This story fits into the same universe as Uncharted.


_Earth, San Francisco_

_November 2379_

"Can Xelatians even sing?" Kathryn held the bag open as Beverly dropped red peppers into it one at a time. The Boxer's Fort farmers market was full of Starfleet officers and the occasional foreign diplomat fascinated by Earth foods. Beverly had just finished explaining, in more detail than Kathryn had needed or listened to, how the Federation song contest had whittled down from hundred-odd eligible member planets, to the top ten.

Lifting a pepper and examining it carefully, Beverly gave her wife the same appraising look as if Kathryn needed to be tapped on the head to determine her quality.

"Why wouldn't they be able to sing?" Beverly kept the pepper and moved towards the cucumbers ahead.

"Their ceremonial body armor covers their mouths? They have- " she couldn't remember. Interspecies biology, first year at the Academy, she'd been reading her physics book in the back. "Something about their vocal chords."

Beverly held a cucumber aloft, not quite smiling. "Xelatians don't have vocal chords."

"That is something that would preclude from them singing."

"Hold this." Done with the cucumbers, Beverly rested a pineapple in the crook of Kathryn's arm and reached up for nectarines.

"We're coming back in three days." Kathryn stared down into the bag in her hands and shook her head. "We have a replicator, who are you planning to feed? Maestro hates vegetables."

"He doesn't mind watermelon."

"Not a vegetable."

"Xelatians have hard, bony plates in their throat that can resonate in several octaves worth of tones. They are also renowned for their clicking arias."

Kathryn waited in vain for the smile that would accompany the joke, but Beverly finished gathering what she wanted and pointed at the queue for the scanner.

"Clicking arias."

"They're beautiful." Beverly took the bag and smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

Kathryn rested her hands on her hips, something that was becoming increasingly more difficult as her hips disappeared with her waist. Considering how many weeks she had left, if the baby kept growing at this rate, when finally born Three would be able to use Maestro as a steed.

"Have you heard them?"

"Of course!"

Beverly passed the bag over the scanner and the computer system acknowledged their purchases, flashing their total. The credits mattered little, Kathryn had seven years of backpay and her admiral's allotment; Beverly's position was even better compensated. Naomi Wildman had seen their credit statement and announced they were rich, leading to an involved discussion in the nature of credits and Federation economics that for some reason Naomi had seemed to enjoy.

Beverly took her hand, removing it from Kathryn's hip.

Sighing, Kathryn wound her fingers into her wife's. "Where did you hear them?"

"All the competing songs from last year have been on the Federation Culture Channel for weeks. I've had them on in the kitchen. You've heard them."

"I thought you were listening to the top one hundred or some other pop nonsense. They call that culture? You call that culture? You who won't let us get through a fortnight without running off to something with curtains and a pit orchestra?"

"We live on Earth."

"Yes."

"One of the centres of art and culture in the Alpha Quadrant. Productions start here that will travel all over the galaxy, we have a beautiful opportunity-"

"To see every single one." Kathryn smiled, softening her complaint. "All right. Federation Song Contest, important. I get it. Are we having a party?"

"It's my turn to host."

Kathryn rearranged her hair in a lazy knot on the back of her head. It was getting long again. Maybe she should cut it.

"Oh, you have turns?"

Beverly shifted the bag on her arm. "The contest rotates hosts, so we rotate. Last year it was Geordi, this year it's us."

"So glad I'm helping."

Beverly squeezed her fingers, paused their steps and met her eyes in that unique, disarming way. "I love that you help."

Beverly kissed her cheek, deferring any annoyance Kathryn might have had left to direct her way. Kathryn wanted to be annoyed. Beverly's iEnterprise/i family were lovely, and on the off chance the iEnterprise/i and the _Titan_ would both be in the sector, she'd see Tuvok as well. iVoyager/i was so far out on survey that she'd never be able to invite Chakotay, Tom, B'Elanna and Harry, but Seven and the Doctor were both in shuttle range. The Doctor would love it. He was probably already campaigning for a holographic homeworld and the right to enter.

The sun caught in Beverly's hair, brightening loose strands to gold. The sky above her head gleamed bright blue, rare for November in San Francisco. Kathryn rearranged Beverly's scarf, settling the green knit neatly around her neck.

"If you really want to have a party, of course, I'll do anything you need to make it work."

"But?" Beverly smiled, squinting a little at the sun.

"I have to invite the Doctor."

Beverly's eyebrows narrowed, furrowing the skin between them. The Doctor had been his usual brusque self when they'd met briefly on Earth. He'd suggested his holographic abilities were far beyond that of any mortal physician and made the case for a holographic head of medical. It had taken Tuvok's patience and Jean-Luc's legendary skills as a negotiator to break up the argument.

She considered the idea. "You have to tell him to leave his work at the door."

"Can you have Will make those double chocolate cupcakes, the ones with the cheesecake in the middle?"

That suggestion went over better and Beverly nodded. "I'll make the request. You do know Deanna and her mother are die hard supporters of Betazed."

"I suppose that means Will is too?"

"Depends on if she's around when you ask."

Kathryn shifted her weight, trying to ignore how much she needed to pee. The sun was so perfect, she didn't want to waste the afternoon looking for a toilet. Before Three's invasion of her abdomen, she could have waited. Now it was impossible.

Before she could voice her need, Beverly pointed down the street to the public transporter. "There's a toilet there."

"How did you-?"

"I remember twelve weeks," Beverly said. She wrapped her arm around Kathryn's and set a quick pace. "When I didn't want to vomit, I had to pee."

"It's only getting worse from here, isn't it?"

"The nausea goes away, most of the time."

"Most of the time."

"Don't think about it."

Easier said than done. Kathryn tugged her own scarf tighter and hoped the contest wouldn't rise to the level of insanity she feared. "A Federation Song Contest party, in our apartment."

"It's called FedVision, and just a little party. You, me, Will, Deanna, Ambassador Troi, the Federation's self-appointed most eminent synthetic physician, an ex-Borg…"

* * *

><p>Kathryn had hoped Tuvok would have been her island of sanity, but her optimism was dashed when Tuvok arrived with a brick red Vulcan symbol pinned to his chest. The badges were everywhere. Her aide had a bright orange Bajoran flag on her desk, Admiral ch'Sorlen had a huge Andorian banner across his wall, and Earth itself had gone a bit mad. Terran banners hung from the streetlights, FedVision souvenirs were available from every quartermaster, every ships' stores, even street vendors in San Francisco. She'd been accosted by two Ferengi peddling hats and flags on her way home, and even her apartment was no refuge.<p>

The bright blue and green Terran banner hung from the balcony, and Beverly had found flags from each of the top ten worlds. Kathryn hadn't even known the Xelatians liked that shade of pink, or that anyone did, but there were flags in a stunning fuchsia hue. The dining room table was strained with food. Da Vinci seemed to think the assembled party-goers were there simply to admire him and kept trying to jump onto it.

After making their greetings, Tuvok and T'Pel headed into the living room, joining Deanna, Worf and Geordi in their debate over who would have the best costumes. Beverly and the Doctor were at it again and Kathryn gave them a wide berth. If she defended Beverly she'd offend the Doctor, and not siding with her wife would make her life highly unpleasant, so a strategic avoidance was the best tactic.

Seven was in the kitchen with Will. The _Titan's_ jovial captain was making it his personal mission to teach Seven that the joy of cooking was not in being exact and following recipes, but rather in the sensory experience. Will had tremendous patience and Kathryn appreciated him making Seven feel so welcome.

He'd also made the cupcakes she loved, so she'd eaten three, to make sure they were truly as divine as she remembered. All of the desserts wore a little flag too, and now that she'd eaten an Andorian, Risian and Bolian supporting cupcake, she wondered if it would be rude not to eat one of each. She was eyeing a lovely representative of Tellar when someone touched her shoulder.

"I hope you don't mind that I let myself in."

On the wall, the FCC was cheerfully broadcasting the highlights of last year's contest, hosted on urban, noisy, colourful Tellar. She must have missed the chime over the din.

"You're always welcome here." Kathryn embraced the latest arrival.

Jean-Luc hugged her, his strong hands firm on her back. "I must admit I had to resort to using the contest as a reason to end a meeting. Admiral Noranti gave me quite a lecture about the superiority of the Risian entry."

"Do they have clicking arias?" Kathryn surrendered to the cupcake and took a bite. "I'm half-tempted to support Xelat."

"I've heard Xelat is part of the Solbitain expanse block, and they always vote together."

"You have to try this." Kathryn handed him a cupcake and searched the table for coffee. "I thought the voting was fair and democratic."

"Thank you, and no," Jean-Luc said. "The Solbitain planets all vote together and it's terribly controversial. Bajor also keeps zeroing the Cardassians, but that's hard to blame." He bit into his cupcake and his eyes widened in bliss.

"They're incredible, aren't they?"

Kathryn poured herself a cup of coffee and retreated to the bookshelf for the hypo she'd stashed. The caffeine inhibitor bonded with the stimulant in her blood, rendering it inert before the baby had any much. Coffee even tasted the same because the shot altered her body, not the drink. She missed the rush of caffeine, the first few weeks of withdrawal were miserable, and she never went anywhere without a hypo. It was a fair trade.

Jean-Luc's eyes followed the hypo as she pressed it into her neck. "My sister suggested that the inventor of caffeine inhibitors should have a ship named for her."

"I'll sign the work order if you find me a ship."

He swallowed his bite of cupcake and both of them startled when Worf sang along with the Klingon entry of last year. His deep baritone echoed in the apartment, scaring the Maestro out from under the table. "How is your temporary assignment treating you?"

"You mean, how do I like signing work orders and coordinating freight lines?"

His hand returned to her shoulder, squeezing into a muscle Kathryn hadn't realised was tense. "You could always follow Kirk's example and get yourself demoted."

Letting Romulan ships into Federation space without an escort or permission might just get her that. Kathryn had a moment of imagining herself back on the bridge of a ship before Beverly, brightly dressed in blue and green - Earth's colours, and wearing a jaunty flowered hat that looked like a refugee from a particularly bright holodeck program, grabbed them both.

"You'll miss the opening!"

They crowded onto the sofa, filling it with Beverly, Deanna, Kathryn and an amused Jean-Luc. Geordi perched on the arm, Worf appropriated a chair, Will dragged over a stool from the kitchen. Tuvok and T'Pel sat serenely on the floor, as calm here as in a temple. Seven hovered near the kitchen, the Doctor at her side, and for some reason, Lwaxana had yet to arrive. Kathryn had no time to ponder that before the contest started.

The wall shimmered as the holoprojector went from the small, portrait-sized view, to one that took the entire side of their apartment. The theme music blared, the people around her cheered and the FedVsion logo graced the wall. Kathryn had grown up with the Federation symbol in places of pride, on the side of her school, her father's things, her mother's books…she'd never seen it splashed around in technicolour.

Holographic fireworks erupted across the screen, then the theme song that Kathryn couldn't help recognising. It was too cheery and strangely reminiscent of the Federation anthem. People cheered, including her wife, and she shared a look with Jean-Luc before sneaking off the sofa.

"I'll get the drinks."

Beverly kissed her cheek as she stood. "Hurry up, Bolarus is first because they're hosting. You have to see their hats."

"Right, hats." Kathryn looked at her hands, which was better than letting Beverly see her eyes. "I'll be back."

The announcer was that effusive Tellarite from the evening news. The one who made everything, even skirmishes and dangerous ion storms, sound like a very exciting tennis match. She could just hear him from the kitchen as she collected the appropriate pitcher of some bright blue cocktail she couldn't drink. The smell of it was so fruity that Kathryn was almost relieved it was off the menu.

If Maestro's purr had been of the normal cat volume, she never would have heard him over the din in the other room, but he matched the racket of a bad impulse engine when he was happy.

"He's certainly a lovely boy, isn't he?" Ambassador Troi continued rubbing the Maestro's lazy grey belly while Kathryn gaped at her outfit.

The ambassador was famous for her outlandish apparel, and considering everyone Kathryn normally considered sane had lost their minds in their exuberance to display planetary spirit, she should have predicted Ambassador Troi would have a wild spread of colours. She may have lacked the imagination to do so. Betazed's colours were purple and gold, one of the more ostentatious colour combinations, and Lwaxana had a purple corset, shot with gold, a gold-brocade skirt, a bright purple bustle and a hat that could have had its own honour guard.

"I hope you don't mind me letting myself in, dear. You all were so busy."

Kathryn started to focus on not thinking about how foolish she found the whole contest, then realised not thinking would be as loud as thinking about it to a telepath. "Don't you want to watch the opening?"

"Oh no, it's terribly bad luck to watch the opening, Kathryn, there are traditions you know." Lwaxana stared down at Da Vinci, meeting his gaze before he trotted off, content.

She could talk to cats? Kathryn hadn't spent much time around Betazoids, not incredibly powerful ones. Maybe she could talk to cats, she was Ambassador Troi-

"It's not really talking, as you humans would define it, when one communicates with a cat. It's more like, sharing an emotion or a piece of visual stimulus. I told him how fabulous his fur is, and he agreed." Lwaxana stood, wiping her hands together. "Let me help you with the drinks. Bolian gin fizzes are so much better if you serve them before the limes start to melt."

Kathryn handed over the tray full of glasses. Two questions went unsaid as she dismissed them.

"My dear little admiral, it helps to know your drinks at a diplomatic event. I can recognise most by sight, some by smell. You'll get it." Lwaxana studied her, then her eyes dropped to Kathryn's waist. "Your sense of smell is impossibly sensitive now isn't it? Might be a good time to start."

Kathryn wasn't sure if Deanna had told her mother, if she'd thought about being pregnant, or if Three had some kind of vague telepathic presence. Not having to explain anything seemed to be one of the perks of talking to the ambassador. "Do Betazoids experience that too?"

"Not to the same degree as humans. Our telepathic abilities increase, as does our hearing and sight. Smell must be more important on your world than it is Betazed, of course, our noses are already keener."

Smiling at her, Kathryn gave Lwaxana the heavier tray.

Lwaxana dropped her voice. "When I was pregnant with Deanna, I could hear my husband pressing buttons on the replicator from the next room."

"What was he replicating secretly?"

"Oh, chocolate. I couldn't stand it when I was pregnant and my Little One loves anything and everything having to do with it. She must have been deprived in utero."

Kathryn followed Lwaxana into the living room where a Bolian kickline was backing an operatic number. The music was pleasant enough, strong and deep with rich minor chords. Once she saw the hats, Kathryn's mind stopped processing the music. All the dancers wore headdresses with built-in antigrav units so the plumed crowns floated above their heads, making them even taller.

"Better than last year, don't you think?" Deanna said.

Will took a drink. "Depends on the Andorians, I heard they were doing ice sculptures again."

"I loved the ice runtha beasts they did three years ago. Was it three years ago?" Geordi looked to Beverly for confirmation and the debate was on.

The chatter about the songs flew faster than the bright blue Bolian ankles on the screen. Kathryn wasn't entirely sure who was supporting who, or if this was a good song or a less impressive version. Lwaxana swept onto the sofa and Jean-Luc stood, giving up his seat with a slight nod and joining the Vulcans and Seven on the floor.

Kathryn hovered for a moment, wondering if she had something else she could do in the kitchen before Beverly dragged her down to the sofa.

"The Andorians are next," Beverly said over the rim of her Bolian gin fizz. "Will, these are incredible."

"Thanks go to Seven, she oversaw the creation of the mixture."

"Alcoholic compounds are simple constructions."

"Seven, even the garnishes are artistic," Deanna said, lifting hers from the glass. "You have a career as a bartender."

Will chuckled and lifted his glass. "I'll say."

On the screen numbers began to appear, and the announcer began reading them off. Five, eight, three, six, twelve, and so on.

"How does the scoring work?"

"Each planet votes." Beverly glanced around to make sure everyone had a PADD nearby. "You can vote best song. You only get to use each score once, so pay attention to your vote!"

"And they're all tallied?" Kathryn couldn't help imagining the wasted computer power.

Lwaxana patted her knee. "It's just one day, dear."

"Ice sculptures!" Beverly said, drawing Kathryn's attention back to the screen. "Look! This year they made butterflies."

The Andorian entry was a wistful ballad about the insubstantial nature of life, punctuated by the butterflies made of ice, and Kathryn tapped the six on her PADD. She wasn't voting twelve until something truly astonished her, but she had enjoyed the song.

The Bajoran entry was surprisingly upbeat, even folksy, and Kathryn could hum along with the chorus by the end. She gave that an eight and was pleased to see Earth as a whole agreed with her. Betazed and Xelat both gave Bajor a twelve and Geordi and Worf began to argue the possibility of a sympathy vote, while Lwaxana and Deanna jointly defended their home. The Vulcans awarded Bajor a ten, which T'Pel suggested was impartial and the discussion raged like a summer storm.

Kathryn hadn't been trapped in the centre of so many conversations since her wedding and then she'd had champagne to dull the chaos. Today, she listened instead of joining. Beverly explained the politics in whispers, and Jean-Luc and Lwaxana added their insight. Cardassia had only joined two years ago, after the Dominion War, to provide a sense of unity to the battered quadrant. Bajor was new as well, and Quo'nos was finishing their tenth year.

It was hard to imagine any serious politics behind anything with silly hats and ice sculptures, but she was surrounded by those who enjoyed it, so she'd make the attempt, if that's what was required.

The entry from Betazed was toe-tapping and cheery. Kathryn had never seen half of the instruments that made up the wind section, and even though she didn't know the words, she could swear she felt lighter, just for listening. That or Lwaxana was projecting her happiness over the entire room. The Betazoid round of cocktails were bright purple, shot with what looked like ribbons of gold, which were apparently some latinum infused liquour.

"Very expensive." Deanna smirked over her glass at her mother. "You wouldn't even buy this for our wedding."

Lwaxana's dress rustled and she leaned over to rest a hat like a blooming purple flower on Beverly's head. "I would have, Little One, but your wedding came so many years late that I was too shocked that it finally happened to plan anything that extravagant."

Jean-Luc choked on his drink, coughing into the napkin Tuvok handed up to him. "Pardon me."

"Makes you wonder just what extravagant would have looked like, doesn't it?" Beverly nudged him and smiled that wicked grin of hers.

Kathryn pried herself up off the sofa to retreat to the toilet, even not drinking the cocktails, she'd probably have to pee at least three times during the show. She'd had enough to Cardassian art and culture to last a lifetime, and she was not above giving them a biased one point vote. Bias seemed to be part of the order of the day.

She stared down at her feet while she emptied her bladder. When Seven had arrived early, she'd pulled on her socks in a hurry. One was a black uniform sock, but the other was a green-striped off-duty sock she didn't remember ever ordering from the stores. Maybe it was Beverly's. Her wife could never keep her laundry to her side of the laundry chute and if their bras weren't distinctly different in size, Kathryn never would have had her own on.

"Admiral?" Seven's voice carried through the door over the racket of the party. "The Cardassian entry is starting. Are you concerned you will miss it?"

"No, I'll be all right." Kathryn paused before pulling up her trousers. "Is it good?"

Seven took a moment, possibly contemplating the musical aesthetics. "It has an unconventional, yet pleasing cadence and a emotionally stimulating minor key structure. The singer is not wearing any headgear."

Running her hands under the sink, Kathryn smirked into the mirror. "No hats?"

"Apparently this will adversely affect their standing, but they were already seen in a negative light." Seven stood right in front of the bathroom as Kathryn left it.

"Learning plenty about Alpha Quadrant petty political bickering?"

Seven slipped past her into the bathroom. "I find it informative, if confusing. The social aspect may be more intriguing that the contest."

Smiling at that, Kathryn leaned on the doorway for a moment. She'd despaired so many times while helping Seven to regain her humanity, maybe watching FedVision was a final step. If Seven was enjoying the chaos, something had gone right.

Kathryn ducked into the bedroom, checking on the Maestro, who was sprawled across the bed. She glanced at her wardrobe, tempted by changing into a matching pair of socks, then gave up. No one had commented so far, might as well continue.

She made a circuit of the apartment, checking the spare bedroom. Will, Deanna, Tuvok and T'Pel were beaming back to the _Titan_ and taking Seven for a visit. Lwaxana had plans to return to the Betazoid Embassy, far south where it was warm. The Doctor would return to Starfleet Medical, because he didn't require sleep. That left her and Beverly playing host to the _Enterprise_ crew. There were guest quarters and hotels, but Beverly had insisted and Kathryn had to agree that having a sleepover sounded nice. Worf and Geordi were good company. Both laughed easily, occasionally beat Beverly in poker, and were family, like Jean-Luc.

She'd have to invite her mother next year, and try and get Voyager closer to Earth. Gretchen was away at a conference about ring theory, which was so technical Kathryn hadn't understood most of the conversation. Next year, she'd drag her along to watch the hats.

Next year they'd have a baby.

Kathryn blinked away that unsettling yet fascinating thought, and crept over to the dining room for more food. She found her caffeine inhibitor hypo and rewarded herself with a cup of coffee. She made it back just in time to see Cardassia receive the lowest score of the day. Xelat and Vulcan were the only planets to vote at all objectively, but Kathryn thought the ten from Xelat was pushing it.

No one but Worf had the stomach for kanar, so their Cardassian drink was a bright Cardassian ale. Kathryn got a sniff of Beverly's as she sat back down and decided she liked the herbal hint to it. She mentally added it to the list of things she was going to drink when Three was a separate human being.

"You can try mine," Lwaxana said, reading her mind. Passing up her glass from the floor, she returned her head to rest on her daughter's knee and the skirt of her dress flowed around her in a pool of purple and gold.

"Just a sip." The Doctor's rebuff was firm and worse than Beverly. "It's bad enough you haven't slowed your coffee intake."

"She takes her caffeine inhibitor," Beverly reminded him. "She's very good about it."

Sipping Lwaxana's drink, Kathryn let the two of them argue about whether or not caffeine inhibitors were enough precaution. The finish of the Cardassian ale tasted the way dandelion leaves smelt when crushed in her hand. Kathryn couldn't have explained it to anyone, but Lwaxana picked the thought from her mind.

"Good, isn't it?"

Deanna reached down to stroke her mother's hair smooth. "You sound surprised, Mother."

"Little One, considering the amount of time, energy and lives we lost trying to stop the war with the Cardassians, I'm surprised they have such a subtle, flavourful beverage."

"That's the point of this, isn't it?" Jean-Luc's cheeks were slightly flushed, but his eyes were clear. "I know we get caught up in the pomp and the spectacle, but this contest exists to promote the strength of diversity and the healing we can achieve. Not so long ago, we were fighting the Cardassians, now we share the stage. It may seem unimportant-"

Will grinned, holding up his glass. "Great moments often do."

"Quite right, Number One." Jean-Luc returned Will's smile.

Beverly patted his hand. "I thought you'd make it halfway through before you got sentimental this year."

He squeezed her fingers and accepted her jibe without retort. "I'll fetch the Earth drinks."

"What did you bring us this year?" Geordi asked from the arm of the sofa.

"Only the best, I assure you." Jean-Luc tugged his jacket down as if it were his uniform, and accepted Seven's assistance with the wine.

Wine from Chateau Picard was the traditional Earth drink at the _Enterprise's_ FedVision parties and had been for years. The cork passed around and Kathryn had to admit the wine was too spicy to be appealing in her current condition. It was certainly good, and everyone else liked it, even Seven, who had her own hypospray of something to let her drink.

The Doctor continued to rotate his program so his holographic beverage matched everyone else's real one. Kathryn was the standout with her coffee, but she was pleased with that. Even if she'd been allowed cocktails, she might have gone with coffee anyway.

She couldn't vote for Earth's entry, but Deanna, Lwaxana and Worf all could, so they watched with interest. Kathryn usually wasn't terribly patriotic in the planetary scale. The Federation had her respect and loyalty, and she'd spent years getting home to Earth, but home was Indiana, her mother and Phoebe. She was curious to see how Earth's diverse cultures could be represented in one song.

When it started, Kathryn couldn't have named the cultures apparent in the brilliantly coloured costume of the singer. It was part Indian in shape, part African in the fabric pattern, distinctly Chinese in the headdress, but the gloves were European. At least, she thought they were, it was hard to tell with leather. She was still trying to figure out just what the jewellery was when the song started.

She didn't care about FedVision. She was only here and listening because everyone else was, and yet, halfway through the second chorus, her eyes stung. It was an old song, something that had travelled across cultures, changing chords and words as it went. Kathryn was both sure she knew it and that she'd never heard it before, yet it was her, somehow.

She wasn't even drunk and that made the demanding, threatening tears all the worse. Beverly and Lwaxana were pestering Jean-Luc to explain the history of the jewellery, Geordi and Worf listened intently, and it was Tuvok who caught her wiping her eyes.

He passed a napkin, folded neatly in a diamond.

Nodding her thanks, Kathryn dabbed her eyes and put her chin down on Deanna's shoulder because Beverly kept moving.

"Bajor got me last year." Deanna let her snuggle close, wrapping her arm around Kathryn's shoulders. "The Bolians won, but Bajor's entry was absolutely beautiful."

"As long as I'm not the only one."

Deanna dropped her voice to a whisper. "Worf will cry when the Klingons sing. He always does."

"There is no shame in a warrior showing his love for his homeland." Worf's hearing was obviously better than Deanna thought.

"Quite right," Will agreed. "Admiral, we'll all be in tears in the end, just you wait."

Beverly kissed her cheek, then her forehead before she fitted Kathryn with a green and blue Earth hat. Kathryn had never found a hat that suited her, and this one with its glittering ribbons, was not going to be the first. Yet somehow, perhaps it was simply the mood in the room, she was proud to wear it.

She intended to blame hormones if any holoimages of the party survived and wore her hat with a sense of belonging.

"That was beautiful." Lwaxana sent in her vote and accepted a second glass of wine. "I think you've outdone yourself this year."

"On behalf of my planet, we thank you."

Jean-Luc sent more wine around the room and the bodies on the sofa shifted around her. Beverly left to check on the gagh that was to be served with the bloodwine. Seven sat down and Geordi slipped in next to her. Seven of Nine did not snuggle, as a rule, but there was enough alcohol and synthehol floating in the room to have an effect on everyone, or perhaps something about silly hats deterred judgement.

By the time the Klingons finished belting out an operatic anthem that rattled the art on the walls, Seven wore a red and black Klingon hat, and a orange Vulcan badge. Not being from Earth made her neutral, and Deanna added some purple Betazoid ribbons to the Klingon hat and Seven surprised everyone by kissing her on the cheek.

"May the Four Dieties grant you victory." Seven looked around at the puzzled faces that surrounded her. "It is the way, is it not?"

Deanna nodded, beaming, and returned the gesture. "You've been studying Betazoid culture."

Kathryn watched Seven nod, her chest warm with pride.

"I memorised the cultural practices of all Federation worlds after arriving. It seemed the logical path."

The Risan entry was all glitz and hedonistic dance, but it was catchy and Kathryn had to stop herself from giving them a ten, simple because she couldn't get the song out of her head. She was hoarding her twelve, and if she wasn't careful, she'd end up giving it to the Xelat clicking arias.

Worf sat on the sofa for some of the Tellarite entry and for a while Kathryn was between him and Will, hemmed in by strong shoulders. Beverly took a turn sitting at her feet and that let her play with the flighty ribbons on top of Beverly's hat. Geordi and Seven conspired to steal it and Kathryn had no excuse for being involved in trading Beverly's Betazoid hat for a bright fuchsia Xelatian one which clashed with her hair and every other thing with colour in the room.

The Tellarite entry was spoken word, more chant than song, and it was hilarious. Kathryn laughed until she needed her napkin to get tears from her eyes and the barrel-chested laughter of Worf at her side nearly spilled her coffee. Summer nectar from Tellar was so sweet that only Deanna and Seven were able to finish their drinks and everyone reached for salty snacks in unison.

The Vulcan entry was a sharp contrast, a classic tune of harps and lute with a wavering, delicate melody carried by the singers. For an stoic planet, it was incredibly beautiful and as one, the room was transfixed.

Will playfully dropped his head to Kathryn's shoulder. "If there were no politics, the Vulcans would win."

Kathryn reached for the soft pretzel that was being passed around the room and tore off a hunk. "Why won't they?"

"Because the Bolians, the Xelatians, Risa and the Andorians never vote for the Vulcans." Lwaxana sighed, rolling her eyes with great indigence. "It's shameful."

The Doctor may not have known what he'd wandered into when he spoke. "And the Betazoid voting record is not?"

"Of course not!"

"Betazed always votes the sympathy vote. It's well documented that whatever planet has the most tragic tale-"

Lwaxana tossed a napkin in his direction, swirling her bright red glass of Vulcan port. "Why is that shameful?"

"Your planet votes on less than the merits of the music! That is absolutely shameful."

Beverly swallowed a giggle, Worf snorted, Jean-Luc nearly lost his mouthful of port, Deanna chuckled and Seven watched so intently that she could have been recording the conversation mentally for later study.

Geordi had enough composure to debate, unlike everyone else. "FedVision is hardly about the music."

"It is a song contest." Even without a drop of synthehol in his matrix, the Doctor had an intoxicated level of dedication to his point.

"It was, maybe, the first time. Now it's all about the political bickering, the vote-trading, the spectacle and the novelty. Risa only keeps making the finals because they get more outlandish each year. Three years ago they performed in EVA suits, just to shake things up."

The Doctor shook his head, incensed. "EVA suits have terrible acoustics."

"Yet they scored very well." Tuvok set down his glass. "Mr. La Forge is correct, FedVision is an amalgamation of the peculiarities of hundreds of cultures from one hundred-forty-six different worlds. The contest serves to satisfy the competitive impulses of some, while allowing others to embrace varying levels of chaos, all in the name of cultural unity. It is a unique and bizarre endeavour that is the most watched event in all the Federation."

Beverly lifted her glass towards him in agreement. "Says something for the Federation, doesn't it?"

"Petty bickering is part of life, Doctor. Now that you're alive, you should learn to embrace it. It can be quite enjoyable." Lwaxana patted the floor next to her. "Come, sit, misalign your matrix and pretend you're tipsy like the rest of us."

Beverly's hips swayed just a little as she stood and Kathryn suspected she was past tipsy. "I'm sure Geordi and Seven could do it for you."

The Doctor cast her a suspicious look, but took the ambassador up on her invitation of the floor. The last drink was the most intoxicating on the Xelat homeworld and Kathryn gave Beverly her own narrowed glance when her wife handed her one. Nothing should have been that pink.

"It's a floral infusion, a little like rosewater. No alcohol whatsoever and it gets Xelatians singing in the aisles." The pretty pink glass had a delicate flower, a piece of some purple fruit and half a strawberry. Seven had done well.

Kathryn sipped it along with everyone else, trying to decide if it tasted more like the scent of a hanging orchid or the colour of a sunset. It really wasn't a taste as she knew tastes. Neelix would have been over the moon to have something like this to play with. She'd have to send him the recipe.

Beverly sat down next to her again and Kathryn put her drink away in favour of resting her head in Beverly's lap. This put her legs across Jean-Luc and Deanna's laps, but with the tangled mass of limbs surrounding the sofa it didn't seem to matter at all.

The clicking was strange, even pretty, like a whole chorus of the rainsticks Phoebe had made in elementary school. Kathryn had never gotten hers to work, but Phoebe had several.

She drifted off to a moment, either into a daydream or sleep, but when she returned, the final scores were being announced. Cardassia had been strategically voted last and the Doctor grumbled about the lack of appreciation for true musical talent. Bajor was revealed in third, and Kathryn thought it wasn't all sympathy votes, even though Betazed and Risa had both given them twelve.

She'd hadn't cared. She didn't even know which planets were in the damn contest a week ago, yet when it came down to the end, Kathryn was on the edge of the sofa, Beverly's hand clutched tightly in her own on one side and Seven's on the other.

The announcer seemed to think Earth and Vulcan would be the final two. Tuvok and T'Pel appeared calm, but Kathryn knew Tuvok just well enough to know he was as excited as she was.

"Earth has not won for fourteen years." Seven kept her eyes on the screen. "Everyone thinks Earth has too much of an advantage."

"Vulcan entries aren't usually this emotionally appealing." Will nibbled a piece of some chocolate concoction Kathryn had avoided. "I think they'll get it."

Jean-Luc sat with his legs crossed, just like Tuvok. "The Vulcan entry was exceptionally good this year, and the Andorians have been more fair over the last decade."

Kathryn couldn't say who she wanted to win more, her own people or Vulcan. It didn't matter in the end, because the suspense was the incredible part. She would have chewed on her nails if one of her hands was free. Beverly kept fidgeting with her fingers and even Seven wasn't quite still.

* * *

><p>She was still wearing her hat. Kathryn dragged herself up from the void of sleep to tug it off. Beverly and Jean-Luc were still talking, having a murmured conversation across her chest. She hadn't shared a bed with more than one person since her brief tour on Andor as a lieutenant. It was cold, the beds were large and once she found some bunkmates who didn't snore, it had been pleasant.<p>

Now the cat was at her feet, taking up his usual space. Beverly lay on her side, her head just to the left of Kathryn's vision and her legs tangled with her own. Jean-Luc lay flat on his back on the other side, Kathryn's arm on his and her head on his shoulder. How he'd let her fall asleep with her hat still pinned to her hair was a mystery she wrote off to drink.

Her two bedmates were pleasantly drunk and Worf and Geordi had been more so. She could still hear them laughing in the living room as they finished off the Cardassian ale. Lwaxana had convinced Seven to come see the Betazoid Embassy, and as far as Kathryn knew, the rest of the _Titan_ crew may have gone with her. She'd been hugged, kissed, fondled and she had no idea how many times she'd exchanged hats.

The one she began to remove from her head was Vulcan orange. Maybe she could blame Tuvok. Beverly spooned closer, and Kathryn rolled to her side, resting more on Jean-Luc's chest. He didn't seem to mind in the slightest, and the warmth of two bodies against her own entirely made up for the rain drumming on her window.

Jean-Luc assisted her, setting aside her hat in the dark. Beverly thanked him and Kathryn let her eyes close.

She had to ask. "Are we having another party next year?"

Jean-Luc's hand patted hers on his chest. "Oh no, Worf's hosting next year."

"He'll be planning over breakfast tomorrow." Beverly half-giggled, half-yawned and then kissed the back of Kathryn's head. "You need to make sure _Voyager_ is in the sector for that one. Pull some of those admiral favours of yours so B'Elanna and Worf can argue about Klingon food and Miral can see Worf's life-size stuffed Targ."

"He still has that Targ of Alexander's?"

"Hasn't left his quarters."

"Really?"

"Really." Beverly tightened the arm around Kathryn's waist. "It was a good year."

"Very."

Kathryn had one more question. "If I like my hat, can I wear it to breakfast?"

"There's the spirit. I knew you'd catch it."

If her hat survived a night with the Maestro, Kathryn resolved to wear it. After all, it was traditional.


End file.
